


with a plan like this it's way too slow

by dudski



Category: Soon I Will Be Invincible - Austin Grossman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudski/pseuds/dudski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>One time, he threw in with his own alternate-dimension self to steal a fortune in gold, only to cheat his double out of the proceeds. Classic.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	with a plan like this it's way too slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vibishan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibishan/gifts).



The headline is a blatant taunt.

‘VENTURE’ TREASURE TO BE SEALED IN IMPENETRABLE VAULT

As though the largest cache of gold ever recovered from a shipwreck weren’t tempting enough, they had to go and practically invite me to come after it by congratulating themselves on their unprecedented security. Stormcloud's smug face stares out at me from below the headline, so sure of his infallibility.

Impenetrable. I look forward to the challenge.

\------------

In a way, their boast is justified. The stronghold that will house the _Venture_ ’s precious cargo until the courts can decide on the rightful owners and distribute it is certainly the most impressive facility I’ve ever seen. Armed guards are everywhere, and a contingent from the Super Squadron is on hand at all times, patrolling endlessly. Even without the [super]human presence, the security would be impressive. Vaults within vaults within vaults, each one harder to crack than the last, and switches and tripwires everywhere, ready to seal everything even further if I’m spotted or do so much as breathe in the wrong direction.

I suppose ‘impenetrable’ is a fair descriptor, in a way. I could never hope to break in alone, and there isn’t a single being in the world competent enough to be useful as an accomplice.

There’s nobody in the entire universe I could trust to help me. It’s just as they planned, but, as usual, their plans didn't go nearly far enough. A more sensitive villain might be offended at being underestimated so consistently, but I know they can't hope to comprehend how far ahead of their abilities I truly am.

\------------

I considered taking a risk and enlisting one of my contemporaries for assistance, of course - Shadow, perhaps, or Blue Destroyer - but ultimately, it became clear to me that the simplest path was still to singlehandedly advance quantum physics by several decades in order to locate an alternate dimension, bridge the gap between the two worlds, and get ahold of a suitable alternate self. It was, in the end, a neater solution than trusting one of my inferiors to do something properly. If you want a job done right, after all, you’ve got to do it yourself, and if one self isn’t enough, well, that’s when it helps to me the most brilliant man the world has ever known.

Once you know what you’re looking for, all that’s left is the mathematics of the situation. With the right equations, it’s shockingly easy to bridge the gap between dimensions. Shockingly easy for me, anyway; I am admittedly a rather unique specimen.

Not for long, though, if this works out.

\------------

The first few attempts are utter failures. The transfer itself is simple enough, it's finding a suitable alternate that proves problematic. I had assumed, perhaps cockily, that all versions of myself would be the best and brightest of their respective dimensions, but apparently not. One of me was a suburban father of four; I was so disgusted by his existence that I nearly dropped him in my shark pit rather than send him back. I suppose it was my vanity that saved him; surely a universe with a useless and declawed Ernest Kleinfeld is better than one with no Ernest Kleinfeld at all.

Finally, though, the portal spat out a man somewhat similarly to myself, carrying a staff I'm unfamiliar with but wearing what is unmistakeably the garb of a villain. He’s dazed when he’s first pulled through the gate I’ve created between our worlds; the journey must have been a difficult one. Conscious but unseeing, he’s helpless before me, and I feel a sympathetic twinge at his vulnerability, as if I’m remembering a painful experience from my own past rather than witnessing his present discomfort. If he’s aware enough to understand the condition he’s in, he must hate it. I’m confident that he’ll understand when he recovers. No matter the differences between myself and my alternate, there’s no denying the allure of the plan. There’s an unimaginably large stash of gold, a vault that requires two men to enter, and a security system nobody but Baron Ether could ever hope to infiltrate.

\------------

I have some minions bring a stretcher and carry my alternate to his chambers. Renovating the lair to add an extra set of luxury accommodations was inconvenient, of course - it’s hard enough to find decent contractors even when you don’t have a policy of killing the whole crew after the job’s done - but I wasn’t about to make my other self sleep in one of the hero cells in the dungeon, or worse, in the henchmen’s quarters.

The four days he takes to recover fully are an irritation; I can’t help but think that I must have happened upon a particular feeble incarnation of myself. Even the man who came out of the portal wearing khakis and a polo shirt only needed three days to recover, and no matter how difficult the journey is, I assume it would take me no longer than twelve hours to reach full form again. But the gold isn’t going anywhere; its protectors are far too sure of themselves and their security measures to even imagine that I will come for it.

On the fourth day, he awakes in time to join me for dinner. I have requested (and received) a spread consisting entirely of endangered species; snow leopard is not particularly tasty, but appearances must be maintained, even if I don’t plan to let any of the henchmen live long enough to tell anyone what goes on here. I eat my meal in silence, allowing him to appraise me undisturbed. I can see in his eyes that he knows the truth of the situation, that there are no irrational fears of trickery, hypnosis, or cloning. He knows where he is, and he knows who I am to him. Good - it would be a pity if he weren’t advanced enough to sense the subtle variations between dimensions. He’d be no more useful than if I’d somehow summoned a version of myself that had never left the village, never found the Chalice, never reached our potential. This alternate, inferior though I assume him to be, is still miles ahead of anyone else I could have found in this world, and so he will have to do.

Interestingly, when he finally begins to speak to me, he tells me that he goes by Count Ether. I find the name less imposing than my own, but at the very least it is a helpful distinction. He has a smug look on his face when he tells me his name, as though he genuinely outranks me, but I allow him his false feelings of superiority. After all, he’s the one who needed more than half a week to recover from a little interdimensional crossing, and he’s the one following my direction in my plan.

\------------

We get along well. The minute differences between us aid our cooperation, making us compatible where if we’d been more similar we might have clashed. Our preferences and work habits are largely identical, and we can intuitively sense each other’s moods much better than we could with a true stranger. We don’t interact much outside of the work - I can’t decide if it would feel narcissistic, comparing stories of exploits and accomplishments, or if it would simply turn into a game of one-upmanship, one that I would surely win. For all his shortcomings - too sloppy here, too impulsive there - he keeps up with me remarkably well, and I find his presence tolerable, if not enjoyable. I assume he feels the same way about our unspoken agreement not to socialize; if he dislikes the formality and distance of the situation, he hides it well.

\------------

Finally, the day comes, and we make our move on the vault. For all of the Super Squadron's bluster and bravado, it's embarrassingly easy to sneak past their security and make our way through one vault after another. The Count leads the way, tackling the vault mechanisms while I disarm or redirect the rest of the security. After the final vault door, he waves me in with a flourish, the smug look back on his face. "It was my pleasure," he says, as though I _needed_ him for this, as if I were incapable of getting past a locked door on my own.

No matter. He focused on safe-cracking while I focused on the vault's trips and traps. He won't be able to find his way out without me, which is exactly how I planned it. The Super Squadron was wrong, but not by much: The vault isn't impenetrable, it's merely inescapable, which is an important distinction.

I stride into the final vault, past his condescendingly extended arm, his false welcome. There's very little light, but the gold casts a warm glow over us as we approach it.

The look on his face when the gold disappears is nothing short of priceless. He shouldn't be surprised, and he struggles not to show it - for a man like myself, one who can connect disparate universes, teleporting inanimate objects is child's play.

He’s less successful at hiding his surprise when I sweep out of the vault and trip a sensor. The security system, sensing a presence in the inner sanctum, sends the door crashing down between us. There'll be no getting out of there until the Super Squadron see fit to go in after him, which could be a while. They're fond of letting me stew. I can hear his infuriated screams through the blast doors, as though he believes that cursing me at the top of his lungs will somehow help him get at me.

I’m not sure what he expected - I couldn’t have allowed Count Ether to roam freely through my world, let alone financed him, and why go to all the expense and trouble of sending him back when I could let him be captured? If he were half the villain I am, he’d have anticipated this. If he’s got hero nemeses in his world, he must surely understand the irresistible appeal of this betrayal - by leaving him to be captured, I fool the Super Squadron into believing that they’ve locked me away, and they’ll ignore my progress as I use this gold to fund my next, greatest effort. No instinctive loyalty to my own inferior double could be enough to make me pass up an opportunity like this, and the fact that he didn’t see it coming is only proof of the fact that he was never worthy of my respect.

Still, it was nice having someone halfway intelligent to play chess with.


End file.
